


Suddenly It Changed

by ParadigmFlaws



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:17:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadigmFlaws/pseuds/ParadigmFlaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young woman, quite comfortable in her predictable life, suddenly finds it less predictable than she had ever realized: and perhaps, a little more thrilling than she might have ever known.<br/>A series of related one-shots revolving around the introduction and subsequent romance featuring Benedict Cumberbatch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please forgive how oddly this reads. It wanted to flip between first and third, and I'm not quite certain I've found the voice or flow for this story yet. However, there are a series of interactions that I desperately wanted to write out so I thought this might be the best way to have at it! More of Benedict in the next installments.
> 
> If you're looking to find me on tumblr you can locate the blog where I make random updates (and assorted photos) about stories (and assorted other things) under the name paradigmflaws.

The natural smells were a familiar comfort. Sunlight warmed the chill that had settled in the yard overnight and brought to prominence the scents of leather, sweet molasses, grains and grasses. Keeping her eyes shut, she inhaled deeply. A sense of _right_ settled among her bones as the stable yard overtook her awareness.

 

Opening her eyes Kate stared vacantly at the brown hair before her nose. Bringing her other arm up to wrap around the horse’s neck, she embraced the creature in a brief, human gesture of emotion that meant nothing to the animal.

 

The morning went on, as every morning would. The fact that she had been mercilessly evicted from the warm comfort of her bed well before the six o’clock hour to be _at_ the stable by six-thirty, preparing herself for the day was an oddity. It wasn’t necessarily the worst thing that twenty-six year old Katherine Greene had done in her life. It also wasn’t the favorite thing.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jack, I’m flattered that I came to mind but I’m really not sure why –“

 

“Your grasp of equitation should be reason enough, you know. The fact that you’re capable of correcting riders tactfully helps. I just want you around to demonstrate. Most of them have been on horses before but I guess staff wanted them to do a touch-up or two.”

 

Kate eyed the man – well into his seventieth decade – with no shortage of curiousity. “Staff?”

 

The white-haired yard owner snorted. Running a weathered hand through his hair it was clear that the man was collecting his thoughts. “Not important. Just some male adult riders. I’d like to put them in the dressage saddles, and you’ve the length of leg to understand the mechanics more than the grooms that I could ask. If it’s the time you’re wanting reimbursement for, I’d be more than happy to-“

  
“Oh, shut up.”

 

Silence pressed between them for a moment. It was on the tip of her lips to say no, to turn away, suggest one of the other girls – but from the expression on Jack’s features it seemed clear that if she said no there was no other option, no alternate. She sighed. Reaching up to pull blonde hair free of its constricting braid, Kate nodded her head slightly. “Sure. Just.. Jack, you know I’m not a morning person. I’m not a _people_ person. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

 

The old man reached over to clap her on the shoulder. “None better, my dear.”

 

* * *

 

 

It would be the last time that she took the elderly man’s word at face value. (So she told herself, although Katherine was well aware she would fall for the yard owner’s ploys every time. If _he_ believed it was within her capabilities, then she would try to have faith in his belief, even if she didn’t share it.) Standing up in the stirrups for a moment and feeling the slight pull as she dropped her heels down, Kate rolled her shoulders to free tension from them.

 

Seven fifteen was the supposed date for the beginning of.. the lesson? Clinic? She could wrap her head around the proper terminology, most especially not at this time of the morning.

 

It was good sense to be prepared early, though. Jack already had Gus, a reliable sort of cob with enough mind about him to have some expectations about his riding, out under saddle to warm him up before he would kit up the rider. Just one, Kate had noted. She had been expecting more (had been expected to have been conscripted into service in tacking and warming up multiple horses, fitting proper gear to riders who weren’t aware of how to do so themselves).

 

It seemed that Jack was more than happy to manage that end of it all his own. “Just get yourself and the Captain ready, yeah? If I run late you can just start a normal ride beyond your warm-up. I’m not expecting to need you much, though having you around to show what it properly looks like ought to help.”

 

With such helpfully vague instruction, the woman had taken herself off. Rhythmic foot-fall was a metronome that her heart beat to, a familiar pace as the bay thoroughbred stretched down into the bit. Expectations, jobs, curiousity, _people_ , all faded into quietness in her own mind. Attention focused first and foremost on the creature she had under saddle, Kate lost sense of the world around her.

 

Her linear focus might have explained why she was so jarred to see Jack come into the arena, a tall man leading the cob. Was it seven fifteen? A quick glance to the clock told her that it was twenty minutes passed. Kate blinked.

 

Alright then.

 

“Kate,” Jack intoned, his voice projecting easily over the arena’s space. “Break for a moment.”

 

Letting the reins fall to the buckle in an easy walk, she meandered nearer to the familiar cob, the yard owner and.. ..? Her lips pursed. The man had a helmet on, which typically distorted any sense of recognition. The velveteen covered cap (oh _God,_ she thought, catching her laughter, one of the yard hats..) was ridiculous. On the other hand, the dated design meant it didn’t sit quite as low as many of the newer ones and the facial profile was disturbingly familiar.

 

Of course, had she simply just shut up and waited for it, Jack would’ve cleared the entire thing up. “Benedict, this is Katherine. Kate Green. Kate, this is Benedict Cumberbatch. Ben, she’s here to give you a visual of what you might be doing, what it looks like if you change things, and –“

 

“Dial ‘round for help if I muck it up?”

 

The deep voice she might have prepared myself for a little better, she thought. Still. Raising a gloved hand in silent greetings, she lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Can do, if necessary.”

 

“In event of disaster, she’s also more than capable of catching a lose horse or three.”

 

Kate gave Jack a surly look. Letting Whistle move out again in a walk, she returned to the periphery of the arena while the men got themselves.. situated. Out of the corner of her eye she observed as _Benedict_ got himself mounted with passing dignity. It was clear he had a better grasp of the mechanics than a rank beginner.

 

“Kate, mind telling a little about your qualifications?”

 

“Not at all,” Kate chorused, carefully not making eye contact with either of them as she was relatively certain that Jack, at least, could have read murder in her gaze if she had. “Whistle – Captain, you’ll hear him called both. Captain’s just a nickname – came from the track so he’s a thoroughbred. Makes a bit of a fool of himself sometimes. Happy to please but an emotional sort, I guess. He’s come a long way.”

 

Kate heard Jack snort. “Not what I was looking for though unsurprising. Benedict, never ask a rider to tell you about themselves. If they make themselves sound good, don’t believe it. If they make themselves sound bad, be suspicious. Most of the time they’ll just tell you about their horses. _Kate_ here rides dressage competitively, and has brought the horse you see her riding up through the levels. Which is useful, but more to the point, she’s used to working with a longer stirrup than most of what you’ve done in the past.”

 

And so the morning went. Toes forward. Shoulder back. Leg back. Heel down. Hands forward. Soften the back, soften the seat, give, don’t pull, look up, shoulders down – the familiar litany was reassuring in many ways. It didn’t matter who ended up on a horse, but it was all the same once you got there.

 

By the time eight thirty rolled around, Whistle (despite long, frequent walk breaks where Kate was used as a dummy to illustrate the mechanics of riding) was quite prepared to be through and Katherine, for her part, wanted nothing more than to find some form of breakfast. Or caffeine.  

 

Preferably the latter.

 

“Jack,” she interrupted, letting Whistle meander towards the older man. “Careful you don’t run late.”

 

It was enough to jar the yard owner into looking at the clock. As he assessed the time, Kate reached down to comb her fingers through her horse’s mane. It was a deliberate attempt to avoid eye contact with the man that she had been indirectly helping all morning, and a well played strategy.

 

“Bugger,” Jack swore under his breath. “Sorry about that, Benedict. Call me on the time. I run late often.”

 

“Which means always,” Kate interjected, as she dropped her feet from the stirrups. “And I’m never sure if it’s deliberate and he just wants to see how much longer you’ll work or if he’s really that inept.”

 

* * *

 

Putting her helmet and gloves into the helmet back completed the familiar routine. Whistle was back in the pasture (muddy, filthy creature, Kate thought darkly) and more than pleased with life. She, on the other hand, was met with far more pressing complications. Reaching back to take her hair out of the braid that had kept it from running amok, she threaded her fingers through the locks in a distracted gesture. Tucked away in the boarding tack room was a temporary reprieve. The instant she opened the door and left the storage area, she would be flirting with chance again. More than content with the fact that she had avoided an actual conversation with the man that she had spent the better part of a morning working with, the woman would have enjoyed little more than to disappear.

 

For a moment - just a moment, but it was shamefully tempting all the same - she eyed the window to the parking area. Damn. She would have to hike out to catch the bus back into the city proper.. and that in and of itself, was a depressing admission. The reason she _hadn't_ climbed out the window was simply that she wouldn't be able to get away with it. Not that it was an incredibly juvenile thing to do.

 

Inhaling deeply and steeling herself, she turned about to grasp the handle of the door only to have it push into the room under someone else's power. Muting a surprised curse, Katherine leaped back to avoid becoming a casualty.

 

"Oh!" The deep, masculine exclamation of surprise was decidedly _not_ Jack's. "Sorry about that. Wretchedly bad timing of me I suppose, and I'm afraid to say it's not even the worst that I've done, so I suppose that I-"

 

Kate blinked.

 

"-Am saying too much."

 

"Probably," the woman agreed. As far as she was concerned, her tone of voice (polite, albeit removed) was still passably friendly. Still, the fact that he was standing in the doorway that she had been trying to muster the courage up to pass through was... well, nothing short of vindication. She had been in the right of it to identify that door as a problem. Damn it.

 

He laughed, although the tension in the silence between them was growing more drawn by the second. All of the sudden, a hand reached forward. "Benedict. We never really managed to meet properly earlier."

 

And she couldn't even use the excuse of smelling like barn to escape it, Katherine thought. The fact that he smelt just the same negated that quite adeptly. Shaking his hand with her own Kate found herself pressed with the unexpected desire to make an apology for the state of her hands, the nails trimmed painfully short, the callouses, and crooked state of her fingers. She knew that a blush was creeping on her cheeks beneath the dust, although the dim lighting of the tack room might spare her the stark reality.

 

"I'm Kate."

 

"It's nice to meet you, Kate. I must say, it was truly helpful to have you here this morning. It was quite a thing to see. I hadn't known riding could look like that." Benedict's voice was pleasant, not rushed. Even though the tension and pressure of silence had shoved against them both it seemed that he had managed to fight it back with more skill than she might have possessed. Still, but for the fact that he hadn't quite managed to relinquish his grasp on her hand. At least, not until the end of his words, when he let Kate extricate it under her own power.

 

She smiled politely, and nodded. Realizing that the woman had no intention of speaking, Ben continued as if he hadn't paused in the first place. "I realize that the timing of this was all very odd, and probably inconvenient." _Six o'clock is never convenient,_ Kate thought, regarding him impassively. "Anyway. I'd like to take you out to breakfast? Jack mentioned there's a place right down the road, on the way back into town." 

 

For the first time all morning (at least, under human observation) Katherine smiled brightly. A slight laugh escaped her lips as she shifted from one foot to the next, rolling her shoulders sheepishly. "That's very thoughtful of you. Thanks for the offer." Glancing at the clock on the wall, her lips brought up into a rueful smile. "Unfortunately I'm going to have to decline. I take the bus back into the city, so I'm at the whimsy of someone else's schedule. Sorry about that. Thanks, though."

 

Looking at her for a moment, Benedict smiled back, animation easing some of the lines on his features. "That's easy enough," he replied smoothly. "Not as if my car won't be exposed to horse-smells and barn-dirt from me, anyway. What's one more? You can ride back with me after breakfast. What do you say?"

 

 _No._ And yet, for reasons that Katherine, even in days to come, couldn't quite explain, didn't follow the routine that she had lived by. "Sure."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the typing on this one isn't too terrible: unfortunately I'm missing a fair portion of one of my fingers thanks to a mandolin slicer. These haven't been subjected to the (necessary) attention of a read-through or a beta. (Protip: avoid mandolins. Majorly.)
> 
> Feel free to find me on tumblr (as paradigmflaws). All of my writing updates are there as well. I don't bite!
> 
> Make note: Timeskip from chapter one to chapter two. Someday I may explore the evolution in the time between these chapters but this was a scene that wanted to be written. This may turn into a series of moments without much real backstory. I have another story in mind that may take up my actual story-writing abilities. More on that later! (Or on tumblr, if you're curious.)
> 
> Also: Smut. Basically. No plot.

Hot water was a comfortable slide against Kate's scalp. Reaching up and threading her fingers through the rapidly dampening hair she pulled the sensible braid out by the time the blonde locks were soaked through entirely. Letting the heat chase away the chill of the day, of the bite of autumn weather and hours in places with less than ideal heating, the woman's eyes were shut in a form of idyllic bliss. She shifted, propping a shoulder against the tiled interior of the shower. Kate's head followed slowly: carefully resting on the shower wall it almost seemed as if she went completely limp, more than content to let the heat of the water wage war against tensions and cold and the myriad of thoughts that had taken residency in her mind.

It must have been the span of a minute or two but to Kate it almost seemed a lifetime. The typical, untouched waves of her hair had been pulled straight with the weight of the water. Tipping her head back slightly so the shower head could reach her crown the ends of her hair reached past the gentle swell of her hips. It was a waterfall of blonde locks that were pressed flat against the fair skin of her back. She was more than happy not to move, the heat of the water a comfortable contrast to the cool of the tile. It equalized her temperature well enough that she almost considered turning to press her back against the black tiling and sliding down to sit on the marbled floor.

With her eyes shut Kate missed the movement beyond the glass door of the shower. The abrupt swirl of cool, dry air swirling into the warmer, humid confines of the shower was less subtle.

Before she could straighten, open her eyes, shift her awareness from the internal focus that she had fallen into with her quiet reverie to the external world, a hand secured itself at her hip. The touch was becoming a familiar one, the warm palm settling quietly at her waist as if it had every right to be there, fingers curling around to rest over her stomach.

Once upon a time Kate might have startled. Now, however, she let herself be drawn back against Benedict's chest as his arm shifted to loop loosely around her midriff, his other hand beginning a slow, lazy exploration up from her hip.

"Oh hello there," he murmured, lips pressing against her temple.

"Fancy meeting you here," Kate replied laconically.

She reached up with both arms, linking her fingers behind Ben's neck. Leaning back into his broader frame, finding security in his steadiness, she reached up to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

The intention might have begun as a pure one. Quiet affection and drowsy acceptance were tangible things, as his arms tightened around her. She offered no form of protest, the softness of her figure melding more comfortably to his. However, as Kate had moved to greet him with her own gesture of fondness Benedict had seen fit to intercept it with a characteristic surety that she had come to expect from him.

Turning his face just so, his lips settled more firmly over hers. For a moment the chaste intention had been preserved; but it was a moment only. Coaxing her lips to part was an effortless task, one that required no thought, no awareness. For a moment time seemed suspended.

For Kate, it seemed as if no matter where she turned, she had been surrounded by Benedict. His forearm against her stomach held her close, his other hand having paused between her breasts to put light pressure on her sternum and pressing her back into him. Her lower lip was briefly seized between his lips in a gentle nip before he straightened and drew his lips away from hers. Her arms remained loosely linked behind his neck, her back pressed flush against his chest.

She was _surrounded_ by him, but it didn't seem to be enough.

 His hand shifted, palming her breast. For the briefest of moments it seemed as if that would be enough to sate any desire that he might have had. She would have been wrong in making such a guess. Benedict's hand opened up, fingers spreading to encompass the whole of it and he let his thumb rest over the nipple that had drawn into a tight bead.

"Already excited, hm?" His voice pitched into the lazy drawl that sent a shiver up Kate's spine. She couldn't hide it, pressed against him as closely as she was. His index finger shifted, tweaking her nipple gently even as his forearm drew closer against her stomach, supporting Kate as her knees fought the instinct to buckle. "So responsive."

As attractive as she found his certainty and his self assurance, Kate fought it in the only way she could. Humming a noncommittal sound of reply her hands dropped from his neck. Both rested on his forearm for a moment as she collected herself to laugh quietly. "Tile's cold to lean against. You don't get the credit for this one."

"That sounds like something that ought to be tested," Ben replied slowly. His tone was warming, eyes bright as he looked down at the woman who was pressed so comfortably against his chest.

For the moment, neither of them moved. His hand cupped her breast while her own rested lightly over the muscled forearm that offered restraint and support in equal measure. It might have been considered a detente - but frankly, why bother? It would have been.. expected. Retreat to more comfortable grounds, more comfortable roles.. Kate mentally scoffed. The exploration was a part of the pleasure.

Instead of adhering to a cease-fire, the woman declared her commitment to the combat with a flagrant act of warfare. Wiggling her hips slightly, pressing more closely against the man at her back, Kate felt the thick flesh of him pressing hot and insistent against her lower back. Rolling her hips again, brushing against it with her flank, she let her head fall back to rest on his shoulder as she grinned at him.

"Not sure what sort of testing _you_ have in mind, my good sir, but I'm not entirely sure you're up for what crossed mine."

The bark of laughter was a surprise: his chest's abrupt movement nearly upset her balance as Benedict's humor seemed to overtake him. His hand dropped from her breast back to her hip as he held her close - closer, even, rotating his hips to grind his cock against her in pressing insistence. "Believe me, Kate," he rasped, his voice having caught at her actions, "I'm more than _up_ for it."

She might have retorted.

Frankly, Kate _would_ have. If she could have caught her breath.

She hadn't realized that her legs had parted. His feet stood between hers as he had drawn her back, finding security and balance pressed against him as she was. However, Benedict had taken it as carte blanche. The flagrant invitation in her posture, soft and yielding as her body was against his, had been too good to pass up. Letting one arm stay folded against her stomach, his other hand had for the briefest of moments, cupped her folds. It was a possessive grasp, certain and unrelenting, even as his index finger slid between the lips of her folds to stroke the inner, wet warmth.

Kate's breath caught on a shuddering inhale.

She might have rallied had he not stroked the finger into her. The steady invasion wasn't rushed, it wasn't rough, but it was, in a word, inexorable. Her thighs trembled as his knee nudged hers further apart, one finger within her becoming two, curling into her to stroke lightly against the location he knew her g-spot to be situated at. For a moment, all Ben did was ply that spot. Gently, insistently, his fingertips brushed with maddening sensitivity.

Her lips pursed into a mutinously stubborn line. Without warning, she rolled her hips, breath catching as she had timed it _just so_ , the pressure and position shifting from something fantastic to mind-numbing pleasure. Kate lifted a palm to rest against the tile wall, head dropping forward as she steadied herself and against her back, she felt the silent tremors of what _had_ to be pure, masculine satisfaction.

"Of course it's not me." His fingers withdrew from her and the emptiness was a tangible _ache._ "And this-" he ground against her backside lightly as both of his hands shifted, spanning her hips securely, "is absolutely not for you. Nothing wrong with friends helping one another out though."

And the cheeky man drew her up (her toes might have scrabbled for purchase on the slick, wet marble flooring if she hadn't shifted an arm up back behind his neck again for security) to lift her to the perfect height. Benedict positioned himself, her legs parting for him as he pressed forward and that breathtaking drag of flesh against flesh, the almost-not-quite pain of stretching, of depth and weight as he pressed his chest against her back and she found her chest pressed against the black tiling of his shower wall, left Kate shivering in abrupt contrast.

The hot water no longer buffeted her as Ben's larger frame at her back acted as a screen. She didn't miss the warmth though, his thighs pressed against hers and his hands supporting her at the waist. This time, when she trembled...

"Still the tile," Kate managed to breathe out, her fingers curling against the wall.

Benedict laughed, a low and delighted sound as his hips pulled back. The slow, slick pull of his cock withdrawing, only the head remaining within the warm folds, evoked another shiver. Pressing his lips against the side of her neck, one of his hands reached around to find the nub that was an easy target within her folds. Stroking her clit gently, Ben let his cheek rest against the side of her head. "And now?"

His thumb kept plying her clit, a gentle pressure that, when coupled with the abrupt thrust of his cock completely into her, left Kate without words.

It might have been a victory for the man at her back, his thumb maintaining its _infuriatingly_ intuitive pattern over her clit, but Kate's mind flashed into stark awareness. In games like these it was certainly possible for there to be two winners.

(Or losers. It could work both ways but as far as she was concerned, shower, lack of clothing, and orgasms meant there wasn't going to be a loser.)

Tightening the muscles in her slick channel, Kate clamped down on the cock that had kept its relentless thrusting. It had been damnably consistent, as if Benedict had been keeping time with some metronome inside his head, having identified a rhythm that left her breathless. It stuttered however, his hips jerking forward more insistently than they had been previously and for a moment, Ben almost seemed draped over her back, his chest heavy against her shoulders as a low groan resonated through the shower.

" _Damn,_ " he breathed. Kate shivered... and clamped down around him again.

Pressing more closely against her, she found herself sliding up against the tile slightly. Only Ben's strength kept them both from landing in a heap at the bottom of the shower, as he leveraged himself against her to keep them both upright. Using her slightly taller position, his hips withdrew and snapped forward again..and again. His hand at hip would leave smudges of bruises, Kate thought, but she couldn't find it in her to care as his thumb changed against her clit, shifting the pressure and the pattern.

Pleasure furled into a tight coil at the base of her abdomen as she rocked back against him. One stroke, against her clit. Two. On the third, his index finger joined the fray and drew the hood back slightly to expose more of the sensitive flesh to his touch and his next stroke had Kate seeing stars.

The rhythmic fluttering of her channel was all the torture that Benedict could have managed. Thrusting into her once more, his hips bore against Kate's as he came, his warm wetness flooding her.

For a moment there was only the pattering of the shower against the marble floor that drowned out their breathing. Their patterns of breath were hidden underneath the white noise until Benedict reached over and switched the water off. The abrupt silence was as jarring as the cold was. He drew back, evoking a quiet hiss as Kate found herself too sensitive, still too stimulated, for the motion to be a comfortable one, and he let his hand drift away from her folds.

He drew back and she turned and the shocking stillness was broken as Kate wrapped her arms around his waist. Ben settled a hand gently against the back of her skull, laughing sheepishly as he leaned back against the tiled wall.

The sharp yelp of surprise had Kate drawing back suddenly. Looking up at him, for a moment the woman remained completely baffled until a smug, knowing smile crossed her lips. "I _told_ you it was the tile."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr (paradigmflaws.tumblr.com) to see previews and updates to plots and my stories, along with whatever other commentary I've got going that day. I don't bite! (I also take prompts.)


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